Page 101 of When Bones Whisper
With one last look back at the room, she fled into the foyer, fog leaving her mouth in puffs of icy breath. The fire in the foyer died in the mantel, the embers lost the icy drafts of the dead.
The power in her soul felt heavy, suffocating even, as she tried to summon it there.
Charlotte dipped behind an ajar door to the morning room when she heard long, drawn out raspy breaths from the grand staircase. She covered her mouth, stifling her scream when the Smiling Woman hovered down, bare, pale feet gliding inches over the ground. Long dark hair hung raggedly around her cheeks, and the too-wide grin filled with rotten teeth did not match her angry, black eyes. The ashen skin under them had lost all contact with the bone below, the darkness in them promising pain, in contrast to her curved lips.
Her heart stammered. While she was no longer bound by the hex, the demon must have remained behind, waiting for an opportunity to snatch her body from her. That, or the concern Katherine had voiced had come true and the demon was so attached to her, it didn’t need magic to keep that bond.
An icy tendril of dread froze her to the spot.
If the demon took her body, it would not last long. They never did when they possessed a person. Mortal flesh was not built to house such evil, but there was a short time when those repellent things could feel how it was to be alive again. The Smiling Woman craved it. Charlotte felt it when she’d lured her into the salt circle, using her body as bait.
Her lips quivered against her palm as she watched the entity from her hiding spot. Charlotte hid when the demon suddenly snapped her eyes to where she stood. Holding her breath, she stared at the globe filled with liquors, her back against the door, praying the Smiling Woman didn’t see her.
Never did she imagine she’d be hiding from two homicidal beings that night whobothwanted her dead.
After a few minutes of silence, Charlotte carefully peered through the gap in the door, running her fingers over the hinge, but the foyer was empty. Goosebumps traveled over her arms and neck, an icy nip in the air biting at the exposed areas of her skin.
A loud crash sounded from the rooms upstairs, along with another. Another few minutes later, Duke darted down the stairs, his eyes pinning Charlotte’s through the veil in unspoken knowing.
He disappeared out of sight when Nathaniel sped out of the parlor and up the stairs toward where Duke had knocked something over.
Once he was gone, Duke reappeared and let out a loud yowl.
Her body. She needed to get back to it.
She ran into the parlor, through the fog-soaked ground, the air permeating with the stench of sulfur. Her eyes snapped to the demon crouched on all fours, peering under the sofa.
Charlotte watched in horror as the entity reached toward her body, now an empty vessel. The demon’s long fingers brushed her neck with a possessive need, the craving for her body palpable with each stroke.
“No!” her yell echoed the realm, snapping the attention of every spirit in the manor to where she was.
Lunging for her body, she rolled underneath, almost vomiting when the Smiling Woman’s grin suddenly snapped into a frown, her face twisting into a sadistic, warped scowl that chilled Charlotte to the marrow of her bones.
The demon’s fingers grasped hers, each movement slowed by the heaviness of the Realm of the Dead.
After what felt like an eternity, she rolled underneath, panicked when clawed fingers grasped her chest.
Feeling returned to her body as she opened her eyes to the underside of the sofa, and an icy tone speared into her mind.
You cannot escape me. Your body is promised to me.
What the Hell did that mean?
Even in the realm of the living, Charlotte could still feel the icy brush of the demon from the other side. She slowed her breaths, remaining hidden for as long as possible, but the longer she stayed, the more her body became slowly paralyzed from fear, or the demon—she wasn’t sure.
With a full body shudder, she decided to get out and find a new hiding spot. Rotating out onto her stomach, she climbed onto all fours and looked around.
Nathaniel’s voice boomed into her mind.
At last, I can smell you again. I can hear your delicious heartbeat. I’m coming for you.
The spell hummed over her skin before dissipating entirely. Being in the Realm of the Dead must have weakened it. She tried the incantation again, but it didn’t work.
Stumbling over her words, she fled, wondering how the Hell she was going to outrun a vampire for—she glanced again at the grandfather clock and the huge pendulum ticking back and forth—twenty more minutes.
Taking off, she flew through the foyer. Her calves burned as she ran up the stairs, and her breaths came out in wheezy pants.
She ran as fast as she could, the echoes of her footsteps reverberating down the dark corridor. As she passed by, the painting’s eyes bled crimson, their mouths twisting in silent screams as she traversed both realms.
